SSX 2 point 5
by TheLameDuck
Summary: Its the SSX off-season. Tricky has finished, but SSX3 has yet to begin. New organiser Stryker has been handed the reigns of trying to sort the riders into some form of coherent competition before season 3 begins. And that means fresh meat, too. kthx
1. Chapter 1

Right, first time posting on here. Wanted to ease into it, start with a created character so I didn't do the real ones any mis-justice. The others will crop up later, I pwomise. Enjoy! :)

**One**

Will stamped his tail of his board into the thick snow by his feet. The tail end of the qualifying riders was snaking down the bottom of Snowdream towards him. Will removed his quad-bike helmet and threw it to the ground.

"Damnit."

Viggo was already celebrating. A newcomer, just like him, the thin Swede had pulled away from the five other racers almost straight from the launch gates. Will had tried his best, but Viggo was a class apart, and Will had pulled in a lonely second. The rest of the field trailed in behind him.

The results were slapped up on the electric screen rolled into the back of the finishing zone. First Placed – Viggo Rollig. Second Placed – Will Dawber. Third Placed – Dilipso Thejan.

Will allowed himself a smile at that. Dilipso, his long-time racing partner from his EuroBoards days had managed to drag himself into the third and final qualification spot. One more race to complete, and a place on SSX 2.5 beckoned.

It didn't make 2nd place any better, though.

A gloved hand clapped Will on the shoulder. He turned to face a rake-thin, dark-skinned individual almost a foot shorter than him, clad in a navy jacket and track pants. The man removed his goggles and grinned up at Will.

"Why so glum, big man?" he smiled.

"I'm that easy to read, Dilipso?" Will frowned. "Bloody Swede. Thinking he's all that."

Dilipso chuckled. "Chill out, Will. Rollig was expected to wipe the floor with this heat. Honestly, don't you remember how pissed EuroBoards were when they found he was leaving for SSX? Not like us. I'm going to hit the lodge, get a shower and a pizza or two. Chill your beans, I'll see you at the bar later."

Dilipso pushed off towards the run's exit, flipping Viggo a thumbs-up as he slid past.

"Who's says 'chill your beans' anymore?" Will shouted after him.

When there was no response, Will made his way over to the press room. There was a withered old man, face weathered by the snow and the cold, scratching up the final round's heats on a chalk board. Will wanted to know who was next.

SSX Tricky had finished six months earlier. DJ Rahzel had left the franchise, and was replaced by DJ Stryker, a laid back, experienced jockey who had also been lined up for commentary on the next Burnout season with Crash FM. SSX 2.5 was the off-season competition, which the majority of Rahzel's registered pros raced on. It was also the main route for amateurs, and pros listed with the smaller snowboard firms, to make their way into SSX full time. That meant that there were new racers like Will Dawber, Dilipso Thejan, and Viggo Rollig, were given the chance to qualify for the main event.

Will's final round, scheduled for noon the next day, was already on-screen. There was Viggo and Dilipso, from his heat, plus three others; James Mackie, a Scottish competitor with Euroboards, Karl Lee, a lanky Australian professional, and Jurgen Angermann.

Will did not like that line-up. Jurgen was an original SSX vet, who had to go through the qualifiers due to a broken leg that forced him to miss the entire Tricky season. Viggo, well, Will had already encountered that particular menace. Mackie and Lee shouldn't be up to much, but Dilipso had a few tricks up his sleeve. With only the top two reaching the first round in the Elysium Alps in a month's time, it looked like 2.5 might be just beyond him.

#

"Save the queen!"

Dilipso dumped a thick, pound sterling coin into Will's pint. The queen's head was clearly visible through the murky liquid. Will smiled. Old English drinking tradition. The queen's life was in danger.

Will downed the drink, grinning as a slow warmth worked its way into the back of his skull. He'd heard somewhere about the drinking age in Japan being somewhat higher than in the UK. Good job the Icescape's bar staff weren't too fussy about identification. Though to be fair, he could easily pass for 20, judging by the size and facial hair.

Turning the empty glass upside down, the coin clattered to the smooth wooden floor. Dilipso scooped it up and pocketed it in his back jean pockets. They were an odd combo, Will and Dilipso. Will was a slab of meat, Manchester born and bred, who had had the option to go pro in one of two sports – snowboarding, or rugby, two wildly contrasting professions. Short blonde hair topped his broad head, and wide blue eyes stared out from under thick eyebrows.

Dilipso did not match this description. The Thejan family had come from Accra, the capital city of Ghana, not the most renowned place for top quality snowboarders. They had moved to the French Alps when Dilipso was six, and then to northern Scotland on his twelfth birthday. Dilipso had signed for Euroboards within two weeks of Will. He was a small man, no taller than five foot eight, and stick-thin, though his size hid his underlying strengths. His black hair was kept shaved to the scalp, so short it was barely visible against his ebony skin.

Dilipso span away from Will, as another competitor handed him a fresh drink. Will glanced around the small bar, and caught the eyes of a mammoth of a man sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of Jack Daniels open on his table. His head was shaven clean, and hard black eyes glared back at him. The man beckoned for Will to approach him.

"You know who I am?" the man asked, in a thick, clipped accent.

"Yes, sir," Will felt the need to be formal. "Jurgen Angermann, sir."

"I-" Jurgen motioned for Will to sit. "I feel you need a few tips. I watched your race this morning. Very nice, very clean, but lacking a certain… vigour. You can go far, but only if you can gain this trait?"

"With respect… what are you blabbing about?"

"Violence, my boy? Anger, blood rush? No, they are too fancy a word. Nothing so… grandiose. You have seen SSX, surely. It is not the cleanest sport in the world. A well-placed fist, a sly flick of a board. Then what do you know? There is an unfortunate fall, a costly slip, and you're away into the distance. Stick it to that Viggo. Never been a fan. Far too… feminine."

"Why are you telling me this?" Will asked.

Jurgen chuckled, and slapped a thick hand against his left leg. "You saw my fall on Mesablanca in the first season, surely. I'm not going to be back in commission after that. Not properly. I got through the heats because my opponents were a gaggle of buffoons and incompetents that deserve no place on the SSX circuit. But there are a few in this group that might have a chance. Yourself included. I don't want you crashing and burning in 2.5, Dawber. I won't have the media mocking me for losing to you in qualifiers."

"Well… thank you for the overwhelming vote of confidence," Will commented.

"Sarcasm, eh? I see where I'm not wanted. Bugger off. I've got better things to do than listen to you prattle on about whatever the hell it is you children talk about these days."

Will rose, nodded his thanks, and began making his way back towards Dilipso and the other novices.

"Bloody kids…" Jurgen murmured.

#


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Will had the outside lane. Viggo was next to him, and beyond him, Dilipso. Jurgen, Mackie and Lee were on the far side.

Viggo winked at Will. "You and me for the season, eh?" he grinned.

Will nodded grimly in reply. He could hear Dilipso talking to Jurgen.

"Try to avoid the face, will you?" Dilipso chuckled. "I don't want to end up some ugly waster. Regular waster is good enough for me."

+THREE+

"Oi, Will! I expect to see you backing me up as number two!" Dilipso yelled.

+TWO+

"I'm coming for you, Swede," Jurgen rumbled.

+ONE+

"Ah, balls. Here we go," Will murmured.

+GO+

Viggo was first out of the blocks, Will quick on his tail and Dilipso close behind. Jurgen was held up slightly, flattening one of the novices who had cut across him. The unfortunate man was pounded into the ground, face first. He didn't even have time to scream.

Will slid in smoothly behind Viggo as he made his way down the circuit. Having watched his last run, Will hit the shortcut that he knew the Swede would take, keeping close to his rival. Dilipso shot away along the main course behind them, followed by Jurgen and the last novice. It was quickly turning into a two horse race.

Will bided his time until they were at least half way down the course, far clear of the other riders. On a straight patch of the track, he used the speed he had built up in Viggo's wake to slide up next to him. Viggo glanced over, surprise on his face, and flicked Will a thumbs-up.

"Nice and easy now, eh?" he chuckled, voice devoid of any accent. "Keep your head, there is space on the tour for the two of us."

Will thought back to Jurgen's speech in the bar. It didn't feel good, but second place wouldn't earn you anything under regular circumstances.

"Sorry, Rollig," Will shrugged, and thumped Viggo full on in the face. The lanky Swede was a tall man, just over six foot, but Will still had a good three or four inches on him, like the rest of his lumbering family back in England. Will also had the benefit of a thick-set rugby player's physique, and bulging arm muscles. The punch knocked Viggo head over heels, leaving him face down in the snow.

"Yoo frastard!" Viggo snarled through mouthfuls of snow. Will cackled as he snowed away in the lead.

"Grow up, Rollig!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Don't pretend you didn't see it coming."

A few swift turns later, Will glided over the finish lines, arms up in the air. Any doubts about his tactics were swiftly dispelled by the roaring crowd. It was worth it.

Looking back up the course, Jurgen was in second place, but slowing badly. His leg seemed to be giving him some serious problems. Will smiled as Dilipso shot past him and slid over the line in the final qualification spot. Jurgen came in third. Viggo and the other two were nowhere to be seen.

Dilipso bumped fists with Will, grinning from ear to ear. He began unbuckling his boots, easing his feet out. The sight of two stringy, holed, battered grey socks greeted Will.

"Well aren't they pretty?" Will smiled. "Lucky socks?"

"Yes, actually, they are," Dilipso snorted. "I've got some lucky underwear too, but you aren't seeing them. Not in public, anyway." He winked at Will.

"I'll pass."

"So…" Dilipso asked. "We're through! Aren't you a little bit happy?"

"Oh, yeah. Happy that we're going to get our arses kicked at the race meets across the globe."

"Will; please, try and enjoy this," Dilipso chuckled. "I don't think either of us want to go back to what we _could _be doing if we weren't boarders. Speaking of boarders, what happened to Viggo? He was right next to you." 

"Took a trip. Faceful of snow. Very messy."

"I see." Dilipso gave Will a look that told him that he knew more than he let on. "Well, I'll see you after the press meetings? I'm sure Stryker and the 2.5 crew will be waiting to grill their new competitors."

#

"Name?"

"Will Dawber, sir."

"Uh-huh…" Will found himself facing a short, bearded man with a clipboard and pen in one of the Snowdream lodge's back rooms. There was a small camera mounted behind the official, and advertisements and logos plastered cross the wall at Will's back. "Right, I'm Pete Wilson. Also known as Powder Pete by the smug gits who run this operation. I've got to fill in this rider profile for you, so the 'adoring fans' can find out all about their new 'hero'." The scorn in his voice was evident.

"Sound's good to me."

"Let's get this over with, then. I've got all the physical details, so… thing in the world?"

Will answered instantly. "Sale Sharks shirt, sir. My pride and joy."

"And what exactly is a Sale Shark?"

"Sale _Sharks_ are a professional rugby team. You know, rugby? Tries, Webb Ellis, etcetera?"

"Rugby? That's American football, basically, right?"

Will grimaced. "You say that to a Sale player, they would NOT be impressed. Sure, American football is a hard game, but all that padding? And the timeouts? Need to man up, in all honesty. Try playing eighty minutes of-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever," Pete interrupted him. "Thing to hate?"

"Stereotypes. Tea and crumpets are vile, despite whatever anyone says."

"Other sport? Do I really need to guess?"

"Rugby, sir."

"Thought so. Food?"

"Mash."

"As in the potatoes? Alright. Music?"

"Anything by Reel Big Fish."

"At last, someone with some taste. The amount of idiots who listen to Napalm Death… Time for a bit of Q&A, magazine stuff. This was proposed by SSX Monthly, so if it sounds stupid, blame them, not me. Boxers of briefs?"

"Boxers. The MAN's choice of clothing."

"Things you have broken."

"Arm, nose – twice – and jaw. That one hurt."

"If you weren't a pro?"

"Erm… drunk sports fan."

"The word?"

Will paused. "What? What does that mean?"

"Don't look at me, I'm not 'down wiv da kidz.' I'll just put down 'what?'… In your pocket?"

"Driving license. Passport. Walkman."

Pete stopped and looked up at him. "A Walkman?"

"Yes, I still use a Walkman!" Will spat indignantly. "Nothing wrong with them. Not going to get nicked, that's for sure."

"Nicked?"

"Stolen, robbed, pikeyed, nicked. Whatever."

"Alright, alright, calm it… any pets?"

"Two ducks. Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg and Mildred."

"Person you adore?"

"Tommy Cruickshank. Coach. True gent."

"And worst injury/wipeout?"

"Broken jaw. Rugby injury. Big sod that's now professional caught me high. Very messy."

"Okay, that should do it. Right, some admin stuff. You can go home now. 2.5 starts in a months time. There are four meets; Elysium Alps, Garibaldi, Metro City and Intimidator. The last two are going to be sneak peeks at courses coming up in the SSX 3 season. Get yourself there, Stryker's cutting costs and doesn't want to waste any money on transport. You should be able to afford it yourself. Don't take the piss like Psymon and those other ass-wipes do, if you do well, you could actually score yourself a full-time contract with SSX. Got it? Good. I'll see you at Elysium. Now piss off, I've still got the rest of those morons to interrogate."

#


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Will and Dilipso clambered off the helicopter at Elysium Alps lodge. 2.5 was merely a joiner between the main SSX seasons, so a handful of pros and a large chunk of the snowboarding media were missing from the usual arrival scene, but there was still far enough to blow the two newcomers away. Flash photography and yelling reporters practically rendered the pair blind and deaf, and they had to shoulder their way through the horde to the safety of the hi-tech glass chalet.

"Bloody hell…" Dilipso breathed. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

"To be honest, I wouldn't really be up for round two, thrilling as it was," Will replied. "Where the hell are the other boarders? There are supposed to be twelve of us?"

"I'd expect they're already out practicing; you're late."

DJ Stryker was approaching towards them. He was a tall man, a thin man, brown haired, eyes hidden behind bug-eyed sunglasses. A tuft of brown hair was visible on his chin. He was clad in a baggy grey t-shirt and jeans, and checking his watch.

"You're the newcomers, right?" Stryker asked, shaking their hands. "Dawber and Thejan. That makes all twelve. I'd assume you want to room together, no-one wants to go with Stark. Its first on the left, then the next corridor on the right. Room 23. Can't miss it."

"Who else qualified?" Dilipso asked.

"There is a pack in your room, it'll be in there. Do I look like the kind of person to carry that crap around with me at all times? I don't need to baby-sit you as well as sort out all the other crap that SSX gets itself into. I'd suggest getting ready, then heading out. If it's your first time, you'll want all the practice you can get. Elysium isn't like anything else you've ever seen."

Stryker flipped out a metallic grey phone and began talking into it, before stalking away.

"What's wrong with that dick peddler?" Dilipso asked. "Sounds like someone's stuck a board up his arse…"

The accommodation was small and clean, nothing spectacular. A small information pack was placed on Will's bed, which he quickly opened up. A list of each competitor was printed on the inside page.

Mac Fraser

Moby Jones

Elise Riggs

Zoe Payne

Eddie Wachowski

Kaori Nishidake

Psymon Stark

Allegra Sauvagess

Hiro Karamatsu

Marty Fraser

Will Dawber

Dilipso Thejan

"Well, well, well…" Will murmured. "What do you know?"

He recognised the majority of the names. Mac, Moby, Elise, Zoe, Kaori and Hiro were all original season vets who had returned for 2.5. Hiro had missed all of Tricky, something to do with a spiritual quest and some other bollocks that Will didn't really care about. Eddie and Psymon were newcomers in Tricky and instant crowd favourites. Marty, that was Mac's German cousin. He'd been at EuroBoards a few years before Will, and was viewed as one of their best products. Allegra… never heard of her. Presumably she was just as green as him and Dilipso.

"You coming, eh?" Dilipso was already by the door, in full gear. Will nodded and pulled on his quad-bike helmet, grabbing his board and jogging after the thin Ghanaian.

"Just one thing," he added. "Can we avoid Psymon? I've heard things. They sound… painful."

#

"I don't give a _shit_ what his excuse is this time, I'm not putting up with that asshole deciding that a mid-day barbeque was a good way to eat every single item of food in the damn lodge!"

Will and Dilipso had just walked back into the lodge's common room after a solid afternoon's practice. They'd spotted the odd pro boarder on their trip, but none close enough to chat with. A few of them had made it back into Elysium's ski resort. Most of them weren't happy.

"Isn't there some sushi left, at least? I don't think he likes that."

"No, he doesn't. So he decided to burn all of that. All there is is some breadsticks and brown sauce. And that's probably because he didn't know what they were."

A short, slimly built man in a thick redneck jacket was pacing the lobby, throwing his arms around in disgust. About four others were seated on the low sofa and bean bags scattered around the room. Will could recognize the two cuddling as Mac Fraser and Kaori Nishidake, two SSX vets. _Who'd have believed it…_ Will thought to himself. The others… a thick-set woman in an orange shirt, presumably the other newcomer, Allegra something, and Moby Jones, the sole Englishman on the tour before Will.

It was strange, really. Will had dreamed of meeting these people, sat captivated in front of the TV as they thundered across Snowdream, Mesablanca, the Aloha Ice Jam, but had never thought he'd have the good fortune to grace their personal presence. Sure, he was an accomplished rider himself, but the step up between SSX and the minor firms was obscene.

The complaining competitor was the spitting image of Mac. Perhaps a bit thinner, a bit paler, and, in Will's humble opinion, a better dresser. This was Marty Fraser, Mac's German cousin. He'd been a competitor on several European tours, but it was the first time he was going to be on air to a global audience.

"Oh, relax, Mart," Mac told him. "There's something not right about Psy. Just let him have his fun."

_Ah. Psymon. That explains it._

"So if I were to rummage through our kitchen and leave the rest of you to feed like peasants, you'd be perfectly ok with that?"

"Mate, if someone else was did it, they'd get the crap kicked out of them," Moby spoke up, in a thick London accent. "If you want to confront Psymon, be my guest. I'm not prying you from the wall when he's done with you, mind."

Marty swore spectacularly in German and threw himself down on a sofa, sulking. "Well, when you get hungry enough to join the rebellion, you know where I am."

Dilipso chuckled. Four pairs of eyes turned on him and Will.

"You don't look like room service…" Allegra began.

"Where are our manners?" Dilipso blustered, walking forward with false bravado. "This is William Dawber, and I… I am Dilipso Thejan, at your service, madam Sauvagess." Dilipso knelt down and kissed Allegra's hand. The Canadian boarder recoiled in disgust and slapped Dilipso across the face, hard.

Dilipso grinned sheepishly, rising to his feet. "Can't blame a man for trying." Dilipso made his way over to a seat on the far side of the room.

"Yes, you can," Allegra spat acidly after him.

Will flopped down on the lobby's main sofa, between Kaori and Moby. He noticed the dark-skinned Brit staring at him through his orange-tinted sunglasses.

"Can I help?" Will asked roughly.

Moby looked away. "Thought so. Northerner."

It was odd, really. There was normally a friendly animosity between England's northerners and southerners, which normally melted away when in the company of foreigners, especially Americans and Europeans. Moby didn't seem to remember the 'friendly' part.

"Is there a problem?" Will asked dryly.

"Yes." Moby said shortly.

Will let it slide. He wasn't in the mood for aggravating one of the tour's legends. "Whatever," he sniffed. "Do we know when the others are arriving?"

"Who knows? Who cares?" Allegra shrugged, eliciting a snigger from Kaori. "Trust me, you're better off without them. The first heats are tomorrow, you'll get to know them intimately enough then."

#


End file.
